


Cautiously (Spoken Into Existence)

by Fangirl_from_Philly



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, And sensitive Arya, Angst, F/M, Gendry and Arya have trouble communicating, Just reversed typical dynamics are my thing, Listen I love confident Gendry, Modern AU, gendrya gift exchange 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28256775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirl_from_Philly/pseuds/Fangirl_from_Philly
Summary: Arya needs Gendry's help at her family's annual gala and Gendry has trouble communicating his feelings. They both do, really.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Comments: 5
Kudos: 93
Collections: Gendrya Gift Exchange 2020





	Cautiously (Spoken Into Existence)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_bisexual_disaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_bisexual_disaster/gifts).



> For the lovely the_bisexual_disaster! I'm so sorry I'm getting this to you late, but I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> The prompts were:  
> 1) There was so much blood and 2) Arya gets in trouble and asks Gendry for help

Gendry was hunched over the sink next to Arya’s washing machine, staring that the amount of blood seeping out of the shirt Arya had been wearing. His eyes kept darting to the bathroom door, listening to the sound of the running water as she washed herself off. Once he had scrubbed as much blood from the shirt as he could, he moved to lean against the wall across from the door. “There was _a lot_ of blood. Why was there so much blood?” he shouted so she could hear him.

“Most of it wasn’t mine, don’t worry,” Arya shouted back, the water finally shutting off.

“That wasn’t what asked, Arya,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest before the rest of her sentence registered. “And what do you mean, _most of it_! Were you hurt?” His tone shifted into one of concern, pushing off the wall to stand straighter just as she opened the door.

“Barely,” she rolled her eyes as she scrunched a towel around her shoulder length hair in an effort to dry it off. Gendry was about to retort when realized the only things she was wearing was a small sport’s bra and a pair of his sweatpants, hanging low on her hips. Everything he had meant to say was forgotten as his tongue glued itself to the roof of his mouth. You’d think after years of being her best friend while simultaneously harboring a crush for her would have made it easier for him to deal with situations like this, but every time her found himself speechless and awkwardly staring and desperately trying not to get caught. He was just glad he was never really prone to blushing. Before he could make a complete ass of himself, she continued on. “Besides, that wasn’t why I called you. We both know I can take care of cleaning blood of clothes and patching up wounds well enough by myself.”

“That’s an understatement,” he snorted following her into the living room of her apartment and sitting down on the couch beside her. 

“I need your help,” she told him, shifting to sit cross legged on the cushion, her back leaning against the arm of the couch, her knees pressed against his thigh. “The jackasses I just beat up are very unhappy with me – “

“I wonder why?” replied sarcastically.

Arya continued on as if he hadn’t spoke, “And they work for the Lannisters. Which means that they will be at the gala next week.”

“What does – No! No. I’m not going! I already told you that!” Gendry purposefully doesn’t look at her, keeping his eyes focused on the print of ancient swords she had above her TV. He knew if he looked over her big grey eyes staring at him imploringly. He had never, and likely would never, be able to say no her when she looked at him like that, but he was determined to keep his eyes glued to the print on the wall. If he didn’t look at her, she couldn’t guilt him into going to the gods-awful gala with his drunk of a father, his terrible stepmother, his demon spawn half-brother Joffrey, and all of the other pompous, elitist socialites they all rubbed elbows with. He wouldn’t go. He had already told her this, even if it meant that he would miss out the chance to see Arya in the suit her sister had specially designed and made for her, that he knew made her legs seem infinite and made her eyes stand out. He wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t. Absolutely would not–

“Gendry, please?” she asked softly. Almost against his own will, his eyes darted over to her. Her pink lower lip was pulled tight between her teeth and her fingers were playing with the drawstring of her pants in her lap, something he knew she only did when was really nervous. “Dad is announcing his retirement _and_ the new deal he made with the Martells, which took forever to negotiate, and I really don’t want to do anything that will pull away attention from that. And you know Cersei would do just about anything to make Dad look bad, but she wouldn’t if you are there because she’s still technically married to Robert and he won’t let her say anything to you.”

Gendry groaned and pressed his hand against his face. He knew what she wasn’t saying as well – Arya didn’t want to embarrass her parents. She already felt like she as disappointment to them, having chosen to pursue a career in fencing while she worked on her master’s degree in history, specifically focusing on women’s history. “Arya,” he sighed.

“I know you hate stuff like this – I do too, but I could really use your help. I didn’t realize who they were when I went after them, but I wasn’t going to just let them harass a teenager like that.” Arya reached over and grabbed his hand, “Please, Gendry. I’ll owe you one.”

“Will there even be room for me? I know how intense your mother is about seating and all that?” he asked, knowing full well it was a last-ditch effort.

“Talisa can’t make it – something about the baby. There will be room at the table and changing the food order won’t be all that hard,” Arya explained. “I promise, we will be there for the shortest amount of time acceptable and we can go to Hot Pie’s after. I’ll buy you an entire one of his cherry pies,” she pleaded, knowing exactly how good Hot Pie’s cherry pies were and just how much Gendry loved them.

He sighed and hung his head on the back of the couch, “Fine. But you owe me, even if you buy me one of Hot Pie’s cherry pies.” Arya jumped a little and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing tight.

“Thank you, Gendry,” she whispered into his shirt. He just grunted in response but wrapped his own arm around her shoulders and pulled her in closer. He already knew he would regret this, but he couldn’t remember the last time he had ever been able to say no her. He didn’t think he had really ever been able too.

+++++++

“Well, you’re in a fine mood this morning,” Davos remarked as he walked into the workshop where Gendry sat, glaring at the papers in front of him, aware of the fact that his face was grumpier than usual. Gendry grunted in acknowledgement and kept his eyes on his desk, though he had yet to begin working on the design he was supposed to be drafting. He could feel Davos’s eyes on him as he continued to stare mutinously at the paper in front of him and the older man moved around in his office, putting things away. About five minutes later, Davos came back out and leaned on Gendry’s worktable, pushing away the blank paper. “What happened now? Was it Robert, Cersei, or the little weasel this time?” Davos asked jokingly, but Gendry could see concern in his eyes.

Gendry pushing himself back in his chair and scrubbed a hand through his unkempt hair. For years he had kept it short, close to the scalp – it was less likely to catch if a stray spark came his way, but Arya had made an offhand comment about likely his hair when it was a bit longer, so of course he had let it grow out, even if that meant the occasionally spark burnt the edges of it. Because he was wrapped around her little finger and she didn’t even know it. “None of them this time, shockingly,” Gendry scoffed. Davos raised a grey, bushy brow in response, waiting for Gendry to continue. Gendry sighed and dropped his hand, “Arya roped me into going to the Stark Annual Gala next week.”

“I’d ask how she managed that, but we both already know the answer,” Davos teased. If it were anyone else, Gendry would have sworn and glared at them until they left him alone, but Davos had known him since he was fifteen and had been there when Gendry realized his best friend wasn’t a little girl anymore. There was nothing Gendry could hide from Davos and nothing he really wanted to. The man was more a father to him than Robert Baratheon ever could be and Seven knew he was infinitely more comfortable with Davos than he was with anyone else, except Arya.

This deep knowledge of Gendry meant that Davos was always able to read his moods and placed a comforting hand on Gendry’s shoulder, “I’m sure she wouldn’t have asked you if she weren’t desperate. She knows how much you hate those things. And I’m sure she’ll get the two of you out of there as quickly as she can.”

“It’s not that,” Gendry explained softly, “Well, it’s not entirely that.” He cast his eyes around the open workspace, looking for anyone who might overhear, but the closest person was Tom, whose music was so loud Gendry could hear the faint pulse of the bass and drums. Confident that no one was listening, Gendry looked back at Davos and explained, “I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this. I’ve been in love with her for ages, you know that. I don’t want to lose her, but I can’t keep going to events with her knowing everyone things we’re more than friends. She’s my best friend but this is killing me. And I just know Robert is going to start talking about him and Lyanna again the moment he sees the two of us together. He always does, you know that. And it’s just so exhausting, because it is another layer of pressure on us both and it gets everyone thinking that we are the next ‘Robert and Lyanna’, which is a load of horseshit for any number of reasons, not the least of which is we aren’t them and then, of course, there is the fact that we aren’t actually together.” Gendry groaned into his hands and took a deep breath, “But despite all of that, I do want to be with her, but she always gets so uncomfortable with the idea of it.”

Davos was quiet for a moment, listening to Gendry’s rant, thinking it over, before asking, “Is she uncomfortable with the idea of you two together or is she uncomfortable being compared to a women she never met, whose shadow she has lived in for most of her life, especially when in the context of a relationship she knew wasn’t a healthy one?” Gendry blinked at Davos, not quite able to find a suitable response. Before he could do anything with the question, Davos continued, “I’ll be honest with you lad, I can’t answer that question for you. But she wouldn’t come here the day before each of your big presentations to make sure you eat lunch and spend as much time as she does, talking you through the problems you are having with one design or another if she didn’t love you. I don’t know how that love could manifest and whether or not it’s the kind you have for her, but I doubt that you talking to her about your feeling would ruin your relationship. The two of you are too close for anything like that.”

Gendry rocked back in his chair, thinking about what Davos had just said, working through the different pieces of it like he would with a new design or problem, taking it apart and putting it back together, analyzing each section. Davos gave him another reassuring pat on the shoulder before leaving to let Gendry think in peace.

+++++++

By the time the Gala came around, Arya had already let her mother know about Gendry’s appearance as her date, had her sister find Gendry a tie that matched the exact shade of grey of Arya’s suit, and found pictures of the men she needed him to help her avoid. All of this was helpful in getting him prepared for the event itself, but in no way calmed him down when he thought about going. Even with what Davos had said to him earlier in the week, he couldn’t shake the lingering feeling in his gut that this would be the night something happened. He didn’t know what it would be, but he had a sneaking suspicion that it would not be good.

It certainly didn’t help that Arya, for her part, was more nervous than he had seen her in years. This was the woman who could stare down anyone on a fencing strip, no matter how much bigger they were than her, and then turn around and defend her theories about the role of women in warfare to misogynistic professor faster than anyone he had ever seen. She was clever and quick and always ready with a response if someone tried to insult her. But this, an event like all the other ones she had grown up going to, was the thing that put her on edge. To a certain extent he understood. She had never fit in with her family, especially when compared to her sister, who was calm, poised, and could deal with any social situation perfectly, even if she hated the person she was with. He knew she was still insecure about the fact that she had never been, and will never be, a perfect daughter to her wealthy and well-established parents. He knew she still compared her appearance to her sister and Margaery Tyrell and the Martell girls, always feeling like she would never be as elegant and self-possessed as they were. But still, these were events she had experience with, and she always managed to hold her own against the smarmy, ladder-climbing ponces who always made themselves known at these types of things, always eager for a way to make the youngest Stark girl insecure and use her as a weak link. He had seen her make her way through dozens of events like this one, chatting easily with the people around her and confidently shutting down any line of questions she didn’t want to answer.

Her nervousness was impressed upon him again when he entered her apartment only to find it looking like a tornado had gone through it. There were discarded bags and coats everywhere and a pile of incredibly dangerous looking high heels next to the bathroom door, where he could hear her rummaging around for something and cursing under her breath. Gendry gently tapped on the door and heard her pause and open the door enough to stick her head out. Her dark hair was wrapped around large curlers and she had most of a face of makeup on, only missing one eyeliner wing and lipstick. “Hi,” she breathed, looking him up and down, not saying anything for a few seconds before she shook herself out of her trance. “You look good. Just go sit down on the couch, I have like a minute left on the rollers and my makeup will only take a few minutes to finish. Sorry I’m running so late, it’s been stressful,” she laughed, though he could see tension behind her eyes.

“It’s fine, we have time,” he reassured her, carefully making his way back to the couch, trying to avoid stepping on any wayward accessories. Once he had made it to the living room, he sat carefully, trying to not wrinkle his only good suit. It was a charcoal two piece that he only ever wore once or twice a year and hated every minute in it. It was restrictive and hot and nearly always required a tie to be worn with it, making him feel like he was choking. Still, he was careful not to crease his pants or his shirt as he waited for Arya to finish. He may hate events like this and everything they stood for, but he’d be damned before he made Arya look bad at one of them because his suit was wrinkled or his tie was tied messily.

While he waited, he pulled out his phone, his only other option being staring at his newly shined shoes. There were a few messages there, one from Jon asking when the two of them would get there, one from Davos, telling him to remember what he had told Gendry, and several from Robert extolling how happy he was that Gendry would be there with Arya. Gendry responded to Jon and Davos in turn and steadfastly ignored Robert’s stream of texts. He wouldn’t be surprised if Robert was drunk by the time they got there, if he wasn’t already. His attention was pulled away from thoughts of his alcoholic father by Arya asking “Alright, what do you think?”

Gendry’s mouth went dry was he looked Arya up and down. Her suit was a light grey, the same color as his tie and her eyes, with a cropped jacket with large black buttons down both side and high-waisted pants that hit right at her ankles. Beneath the jacket, she wore a black, lacy corset type top and nothing else. Her nails and lips were painted the exact some shade of bright red, the exact same as he shoes. Gendry was sure he looked like a fool, just sitting there staring at her, not saying a damn thing, but he couldn’t find it within himself to compose a single sentence.

Arya must have taken his silence for disapproval, as she ducked her head and hid her face behind her hair. “That bad, huh?” she asked jokingly, and Gendry was shaking his head as soon as it left her mouth.

“Arya, you look … incredible,” he finished lamely, his tongue still sticking to the roof of his mouth.

“Oh, please,” Arya shook her head, still not looking at him.

Quickly, he stood and placed his hand on her cheek, directing her eyes towards his own. “I mean it,” he whispered hoarsely. “You look beautiful.”

She blushed brightly, her eyes flicking around the room, before she leaned over to grab a red overcoat and small silver and red purse. “Thank you,” she whispered back, still not quite looking at him. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders before finally lifting her head fully and smiling, almost forcefully, “Okay, let’s go. The car will be here in a minute.” With that, she grabbed her keys and nudged him out the door so she could look the door and shove the keys into her bag.

The elevator ride down was quiet, but awkward somehow. Gendry wasn’t sure how to fix it but wanting to do so desperately. Before he could say anything to break the silence, the elevator dinged, and they stepped out to see a lux black car pull up in front of them. The front window rolled down and the driver stuck his head out slightly, “Evening, Miss Arya.”

Arya smiled back at him and climbed into the back seat, next to Gendry. “Good evening, Harwin. How have you been?” she asked, keeping her attention on the driver, not looking at Gendry once.

“I’m alright. You need anything?” He asked, looking at the two of them in his rear-view mirror.

Arya shook her head quickly, “We’re alright, thanks.” Her smile was tighter than it normally was, especially considering she had known Harwin for most of her life. Gendry wanted to ask her about it – ask what was wrong, but he knew he would just get brushed off. Something was going on with her tonight, and he didn’t know what. Before he could even think of a way to gently approach the topic, she turned to him and started to talk, far quicker than she normally did, “I talked to Mom. We just need to be there until Dad makes the speech. After that we can make our goodbyes and be out of there by ten, hopefully. After that, we can go to Hot Pie’s okay?”

“Uh – I mean, yeah,” Gendry stammered, his eyebrows creasing together. “Arya, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, why?” Arya asked, forcing cheerfulness in her voice.

Gendry took a deep breath and tried not to grit his teeth. She was clearly lying to him, something she almost never did. He forced himself to push his anger off to the side, reasoning that she just didn’t want to deal with the men from earlier that week and remembering that she would normally be stressed about this anyway, considering the publicity of it all. Gently, he grabbed her hand in his, “You just seem worried is all,” he tried to put reassurance in his voice. “I’m here for you and I’m sure this will be fine. Who knows, we might not even see the Lannister assholes,” he tried to joke. She smiled at that, but it a small thing.

She pulled her hand out from under his and pushed a piece of hair behind her ear, “Maybe not.” Before he could say anything else, she turned to face the window and watched as the lights of downtown Kings Landing flew by.

+++++++

The first half of the evening wasn’t horrible. He and Arya mostly stayed near her family, both of them talking to Jon and his fiancé, Ygritte. They shook hands with all the people they had too and avoided any members of the Lannister-Baratheon contingent. The dinner itself wasn’t awful, as they were seating at the Stark table, which, while intimidating, Gendry at least knew everyone present to a certain extent and did not have to pretend to be interested in small talk or deal with questions of what he did for a living or “does he know how much he resembles his father in his youth?” (He does. He has been told time and time again. He hates it every single time someone brings it up.) Arya is still unusually quiet and nervous, but she hides it from her family well. The only people who seem to notice something is wrong it Jon and Arya’s father, but neither of them would even think to bring it up in room this full of people who would love to destroy the Stark family. Eventually though, dinner stopped, and everyone stood up from their tables and began mingling until the speech from Mr. Stark later. Arya stayed close to his side, occasionally using his bulk to hide from people she didn’t want to talk to. Gendry was fine with this. He was more than happy to spend the rest of the night as a silent wall of intimidation for her if it meant she could relax, even a little.

Of course, things began to go downhill eventually. Arya left where they had posted themselves on the side of the room to use the bathroom and at the same time, Robert found him and all but dragged Gendry into a conversation with people he could not have given less of a shit about. By the time he had managed to extricate himself from Robert and his too-loud laughter and stench of alcohol, he just saw a glimpse of a grey sleeve being pulled to the corner of the room by one of the men Arya had told him about. He tried to get to her as quickly as possible, but it seemed that everyone had realized Robert Baratheon’s estranged son was here and tried to talk to him, to get him to tell them everything about Robert, anything that could ruin his career. Gendry shook them off, but they were like flies. As soon as there was one, there was a swarm. It took him nearly ten minutes to cross the hall to wear the Lannister shits had dragged Arya too and he knew something was wrong as soon as he got there. Arya’s shoulders were tenser than they had been all night and her hands were clenched into fists at her sides.

“Don’t think that just because you’ve got your big boyfriend with you will stop us. There are more of us then him and we have some unfinished business to attend to,” the apparent ring-leader snarled in Arya’s face. “You may have surprised a few of us before but there are far more of us now and none of us particularly care whether or not we beat a little girl bloody.”

Before Gendry could insert himself, Arya hissed, “You wouldn’t dare hurt a Stark at our own gala.”

The men laughed. “You may be a Stark, but everyone knows you’re the Stark that they care the least about. Do you really think anyone will care what happens to you when your dear daddy has such an important speech to make?” the ringleader sneered, pushing himself into Arya’s space. Before he could do anything else, Gendry grabbed the little shit by the back of his jacket and hoisted him against the wall, pressing his face into the stone and retching one of his arms behind his back, his grip tight enough to pull break the arm entirely, immensely glad that the corner they were in was dark and mostly empty.

“One more word out of your mouth,” Gendry growled, “And I will put you in a hospital for the rest of your life.”

“You can’t do that,” the blond eked out, his face still tight against the stone. “I’m a Lannister, I have more power than an up-jump bastard – “

Gendry pulled on his arm harder, the blond’s tirade coming to a halt with a high-pitched squeak. “I don’t care if you are the bloody Night King come again. You say another word about her, take one more step towards, so much as think about touching her and I will make the rest of your life misery. Because I may be a bastard, but I’m a bastard that grew up in Flea Bottom and paid my way through undergrade by boxing competitively. I will end you,” Gendry ground out harshly, dropping the blond on his ass unceremoniously. He took a look around at the others that had ganged up on Arya and cracked his knuckles, “Anyone else want to say something?”

All of them quietly shook their heads or simply ran off, hoping to avoid Gendry’s wrath. Once they were gone, he turned to where Arya had been only to find that she was gone. He quickly looked around, trying to spot her and saw the door to the patio was open. Quickly he walked over and out into the cold night air. Arya was standing by the stone railing, looking down as the garden’s below. As he walked closer, he saw her hands were clutching the stone railing, her knuckles turning white. Cautiously, he walked up to her and placed one of his hands on hers. She turned to face him, and he saw the tears running down her face, black streaks cutting through pale foundation. Lifting his other hand, he pressed it into her cheek and wiped away what he could, though there was no stopping the smudging around her eyes. “It’s not true,” he whispered. “What they said, it’s not true.”

“But it is,” she cried, tears still streaming down her face. “My family wouldn’t care, not tonight at least. They would try to keep it quiet until everything was done and then they would deal with them privately. No one would care tonight.”

“Arya, that’s not true. All of them would care and I’d bet good money Jon and your dad would be ready to fight those assholes as soon as they found out,” he told her fiercely, lifting his other hand to her other cheek. “And, beyond any of them, I would care. I would’ve done a lot more to them then that if I weren’t worried about you,” he told her honestly.

“You shouldn’t. I’m not worth it,” Arya whispered.

“Yes, you are Arya!” Gendry all but shouted. “You’re smart and clever and kind and funny and a million other things. You will always be worth it.” Gendry wasn’t talking about the fight anymore, but he needed Arya to know this.

“I just weigh you down. You could do so much more, have so much more without me clinging to you,” Arya said forcefully, pulling herself from his grip and turning away from him. “Do you know how many girls in there would be falling all over you if I weren’t here? I shouldn’t hold you back just because I’m selfish.”

Gendry stared at her back, baffled, before grabbing her shoulder and turning her around, “Arya, what the hell are you talking about?”

“There are so many girls who want you, want to be with you, and the only reason they don’t approach you is because you’re always here with me. Because I let them think we are together, because I’m selfish,” she spat, trying to hide her fear and pain in anger. “Because I wish it was true, but I don’t want to lose you,” she whispered.

Gendry couldn’t help himself. He started to laugh, harder than he had in a while. He knew he shouldn’t. Should explain to Arya exactly how wrong she was, but he couldn’t stop himself. Arya looked him up and down as he did, her anger growing. “You don’t have to laugh at me, you ass,” she snapped and moved to storm off, but Gendry caught her and gently turned her around, not letting go of her hand.

“I’m laughing,” he told her, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, “Because I kept thinking the same thing about you. I thought you hated the idea of us ever being in a relationship and so I never told you how I felt because I didn’t want to lose you.”

“What?” she asked, blinking and confused.

Gendry smiled and cupped hand around her neck, leaning into her, and whispering in her ear, “I’m in love with you.” He pulled back slightly, carefully watching her face, not wanting to push her any further when she grabbed his face and kissed him. He tried to keep pace with her, but he kept smiling into her lips. Eventually, they pulled apart, both of their foreheads pressed together, both smiling.

Behind them, they heard applauds from inside and Arya leaned over to see over his shoulder. “Dad’s speech is done,” she whispered, not quite leaving the little bubble they had created.

“You owe me pie,” he whispered back, grinning as his pressed another kiss to her lips. She smiled up at him, grabbed his hand, and dragged him into the hall and out the door.

+++++++

At the end of the night, Hot Pie had to kick them out, both of them still laughing and smiling into each other, still in their suits.

**Author's Note:**

> This got a little away from me towards the end, but I hope you enjoyed it! Kudos and comments are always appreciated.


End file.
